


Rick of Thieves

by your_world_will_crack



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: AU, Alternate Reality, Alternate Universe, Idiot Jerry, Kingdom politics, M/M, Monarchy, Prince Morty, Princess Summer, Queen Beth, SSR (secret service of ricks), Thief Rick, made up country
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-31
Updated: 2016-09-16
Packaged: 2018-07-28 08:44:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7633228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/your_world_will_crack/pseuds/your_world_will_crack
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rick is a thief and Morty doesn't have a friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Rickingdom

**Author's Note:**

> This is just the prologue. Next chapter will be longer and include good shit.

The old monarchy stood at the heart of the country, nestled in the center of a beautiful valley. The black mountains to the north shielded it from their more aggressive neighbors. To the east and the west were dense forests that sloped for miles and miles south, until they reached the sea. The land was only broken up by cobblestone roads and a hundred or so towns that spanned the small albeit powerful nation. 

To outsiders it known by many names. Some whispered, some feared; some cursed, some blessed. All, however, different than its true name. 

It's true name didn't matter. Not when it was all a farce. The royal family was still in place, however they were not in real power. They were kept to placate and please the populations and maybe for another complicated reason, but the actual rulers were a secret police. 

They'd been here since Queen Beth had her first child. Their presence truly eased the Queen as she planned to protect her people from the growing gromflomite armies across the expanse, or the hostile northern kingdom always pressing their borders. 

Her eldest had been groomed to take her place and had shown most promising. Her second child, however, was not so. 

She blamed herself for being too busy to keep Jerry from ruining his development with his own fears and worries. 

_At least I have one good kid_ , she thought.

Winter was ending and with it came the end of peaceful times. No one wanted to wage war during winter's bitter wrath. The land she'd seen drained of color for five long months was finally beginning to return to its luscious melody of green. It wouldn't be long now and the song birds would be accompanied by the drums of war. She looked out upon her melting valley and watched her breath fog up the glass. She saw the uniformed men of the SSR marching and training in the slushy grounds below. 

Out of the corner of her eye, she witnessed one fall out of line and break away from the battalion. 

"My Lady," a hoarse voice prompted. 

"Oh," Beth looked to figure standing barely two feet off the ground, "What is it, Squanchy?" 

"The Council of Ricks are ready to meet with you." Squanchy's dark, easily matted fur was groomed and he was dressed in the usual red and gold colors of the monarchy. His whiskers were eternally twisted, a result of the stresses and fights that came with being one of the castle's closest allies. 

"Very well," Beth said. She followed Squanchy down the halls of her palace. Not that she needed an escort in her own home, mind you. Having Squanchy at her side simply put her mind at ease. Of course, her grounds were the most secure in all of the capital, but Beth was no idiot. She took no chances and was always vaguely aware of the possibility of an internal attack. 

But as she entered the great hall, who's banquet table was empty accept for the expensive, foreign alcohols and SSR officials, she forgot all about the rogue Rick she saw.


	2. The Rick-encounter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morty meets a strange Rick.

Morty was fourteen and had spent his entire life on twelve acres of palace grounds. He was homeschooled in arithmetic, geography, history, music, dance, strategy, and rhetoric, but he retained very little of any of it. He hadn't a single friend. The guards were overly professional, every single blue-haired one of them. His family was always busy with matters and it seemed he would die of boredom and loneliness before his fifteenth birthday. 

And so he set off on the muddy grounds hoping to come across an injured bird or something that could be his friend. Even if he were to nurture it back to health only to have it fly off, the time he spent caring for it would've been enough.

But nothing was on the grounds except the squads of uniformed Ricks. So Morty carefully slipped away from the training fields and escaped into the woods. 

It was always darker and ten degrees cooler there, and all sound seemed to get trapped beneath the forests thick branches. And that's why it was his favorite place. It was a place shielded off from his mother and from the SSR and the rest of the world. It wasn't littered with plasma blasts or used for experiments, it was just a place of serenity and beaut—

"Whht thh fhck?!" Morty tried to scream, but his mouth was covered by a booze-reeking hand. He kicked back and instantly the hand fell with a groan, and so did the rest of the body.

"Aaahh r–right in the balls–aa fuck me." 

Morty grabbed the steadiest looking stick he could find in five seconds of looking. He raised it high above his head so that the shadow fell over the crumpled man. 

"W–W–Who are you?" Morty stuttered.

"I'm your mom." 

_Whack!_

"Fuck!" The man now used only one hand to hold his balls while the other clutched his now throbbing head. 

"I'll–I'll ask again," Morty motioned the stick in threat. 

"Jeez, alright, tough guy. I'm–URP–Rick Sanchez."

 _Whap!_

"What the hell was that?!" His blue hair was all twisted and littered with stick fragments. 

"Y-You think I'm blind? Of course I know you're a Rick Sanchez. I want to know why you–you–tried to strangle me."

Rick pulled himself off the ground, slowly so that Morty wouldn't get jabby. 

"First of all, I didn't try to strangle you, I just didn't want your–your–you stumbling into my roost. And se-second of all, I–URP–probably wouldn't have done that if I knew your choice of attack was my genitals." 

Morty lowered his stick but kept his eyes firmly fixed on Rick. 

"S-Sorry. But that still doesn't explain who you are." Morty punctuated his sentence by pressing the tip of the branch against the man's chest. 

Rick lazily brushed the stick away with his hand and slowly pushed passed Morty and down a hill into his makeshift hideout. 

"H–Hey, wait!" Morty followed him down and prodded his backside with his stick. "Why are you hiding out in the woods?" 

Rick sighed, turned, took the stick from Morty, broke it in half, and handed it back to him. 

"Cause I don't–don't live in a palace." 

Morty sat down a smooth boulder and watched Rick search through a few bags that were hidden under fallen branches. 

"So I'm gonna guess you don't work for my family." 

"Ooh, someone give him a blips and chitz prize!" 

Morty ignored him and crossed his arms. "You know, sarcasm shortens your lifespan."

"Oh, thank God." 

Morty expected Rick to pull out some sort of gun or knife but instead he just held a bottle of amber liquor. He leaned back against a tree, crossed his legs, and looked boredly and the young prince sitting so prim and proper on a rock like it was a throne. 

"So," Rick took a gulp from the bottle, "h–how you wanna die?"

"Um?" 

"Well, obviously I have to kill you now, because you know I'm out here." 

"O-Oh, jeez, well I dunno, my mom might not be too happy when she finds out." 

Rick snorted and took another swig.

"Well, g-good luck trying to kill me." 

Rick gave him a plain look. "You're like, what, a hundred and thirty pounds? A–and you've got sticks." 

"A–and I can also scream and outrun your drunk ass with enough time for the SSR to get here," Morty gave his best smug grin. 

"You little turd." 

"S–So, I've got an idea." 

"Ooh," Rick waved his hands, "can't–URP–can't wait to hear this."

"I–I'll let you into the palace t–to continue doing wh–whatever it is you're doing–which looks like stealing our alcohol." 

"Hey, bnorovian whiskey." 

"W–whatever, like I care about our beverages. We–we've got a whole cellar full of them." 

"General beverages or bnorovian whiskey?" 

"Both? Jeez, w-will you let me finish?" Rick didn't say anything, only took a sip from the bottle. "Thanks. So I'll let you in a–and even show you around to the cellar but in exchange you have to be my friend."

"What?" Rick laughed.

"I–I said—."

"I know what you said. And I say 'no'."

Morty crossed his arms, "Okay then. Guard—"

"Fine, fine!" Rick panicked, "Christ, kid. Y–You know you really shouldn't blackmail people into becoming your friend."

"O–Oh yeah? W–Well yo–you shouldn't be stealing. So do we have a deal?" Morty uncrossed his arms, stood as imposing as he could, and extended his hand out. 

Rick looked down at it for a moment and decided he could always just kill the kid later if it became too much of a bother. But as he took the boy's soft, unmarred hand, he suddenly felt vaguely certain he would never do that.


	3. Rick Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rick takes a bath.

Turns out it was actually rather hard to sneak a Rick into a place filled with other Ricks. The SSR was incredibly confused and suspicious when they saw one of themselves walking with the prince. 

In complete fairness, they had every right to be. And not just because this Rick was literally hiding in the woods on the palace grounds in a dirty SSR uniform. Ricks knew what they were capable of, and more or less how each of them thought. And even if this stranger wasn't a Rick, any person casually strolling with one of their charges warranted at least a cursory investigation. 

Morty, for all he was worth, was about to stutter out a cover story for Rick, but luckily he didn't have to. Rick already technically being part of the SSR made getting past the guards a lot easier. Morty knew that sooner or later he would run into his mom or sister and he more or less had a plan for when that situation come up. 

They made it through the palace without incident, only getting the briefest of looks from servants who didn't care enough to question. Morty's room was on the third floor and was laughably ornate and fancy for a fourteen year old. 

Rick ran his fingers over the silk curtains and table cut out of a single piece of red cherry, and while the decorations felt out of place, he thought the definitely fitted a prince. Just not maybe Morty, who fretted from foot to foot the whole time we nervously watched Rick survey his room. 

"You sure got a–urp–lot of expensive shit," Rick mentioned, "I bet you jack off in cashmere sock." 

Morty felt embarrassed being scrutinized so and sat on his bed and offered it Rick. 

"I'm pretty dirty. Got a lotta dirt and woodsy stuff on me. Wouldn't wanna soil your bed," Rick said. 

Morty only shrugged and then a thought came to him. "W–Would you like a bath?"

Rick thought about that for a moment. How much he needed to wash the sweat and grime off him, but also how strange it would be to bathe in a palace. Servants polished it and the tub was probably made out of marble and for someone as unrefined as himself to possibly share the same shitter and sink as a royal family made him slightly uncomfortable. 

"I uh–well, yeah but wouldn't that be um–"

"N–No, not if you think of yourself as a guest."

"I'm not a guest, I'm a sap you're blackmailing." Rick crossed his arms. 

Morty fiddled with his thumbs before moving on. "W–Well you can't look like that if you're gonna eat dinner with us." 

 

\--

He took Rick to the closest bathroom—there happened to be eight of them. It was just as ornate and polished as Rick imagined. Morty bent over the side of the tub and began running the water. 

"I'll uh, have the maids bring you some clothes while they wash your uniform." 

Rick nodded and pulled out some towels he found in the cupboards, relishing in their high thread count. 

Almost automatically and thoughtlessly, Rick began to undress. He popped the buttons of his over-coat and tossed in on the counter. It wasn't until his undershirt joined it and his hands were fumbling with his belt did Morty turn away from the bath. 

"O–Oh, uh–" Morty held his hands up. Rick didn't understand for what purpose, considering he was clearing peeking between them. 

Rick only shrugged and pulled the belt through the loops with a gentle _vvvsh_. He set it on top of the other clothes and smirked as he pulled his pants down. 

"Li–urp–Like what you see, little prince?" 

Morty defiantly threw his hands at his sides and looked at Rick full-on. He wasn't clever or mentally prepared enough to answer such a question so instead he just changed the subject. 

"So, um," he gestured to the bath, "I'm sure you can figure it out. I'll uh, I'll be right back with the clothes." 

Rick grunted in response and didn't wait until Morty had completely closed the door to shuck off the remainder of his clothes. The bath was warmer that tepid and it felt fucking amazing against his sore legs and old bones. At first he thought he'd be uncomfortable with such a luxury, but they weren't good at being luxuries of they made people uncomfortable. But Rick all but surrendered to the warm bath and the honey-oatmeal soap. 

He let his head sink into the water and eventually submerged himself completely. He scrubbed his hair, feeling bits of dead skin and filth and whatever else collect under his nails but thankfully leave his scalp. 

He distantly heard the prince reenter the room through the water filled in his outer ears. He sat up in the tub and asked for a small towel. He patted his face dry and wound his fingers through his soapy hair, eyeing the clothes the boy held in his arms. 

"I uh–" Morty awkwardly set them on the counter, "Whenever you're ready. They should fit you." 

Rick gently hummed in response and watched Morty look from the ground, to him, then back to the ground. 

"What is it?" The bath had considerably mellowed him out and his voice hung low, thick with steam and something else. 

"Well, I was uh, wondering what I should call you?" 

Rick pushed some water through his toes and thought. "Just Rick. But what about you, little prince? I know the other Ricks just call you all by your titles." 

"Y–Yeah, uh, since you're my friend, you can just call me Morty." 

"Alright, Morty," He decided he liked how it felt on his tongue. 

"Alright, Rick." Morty smiled brightly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is gonna have the fam meeting Rick at dinner!!


	4. Dinner & the night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's dinner and then they have a chat before bed.

"Geez, c-c'mon, Rick, we gotta go," Morty insisted. 

Rick half-heartedly groaned at his reflection in the mirror. His red and gold uniform was absent and instead he wore an old, slim-fitting blue sweater, a plain pair of slacks, and a snow-white overcoat. It truth, he thought he looked decent, now that his hair was washed and returned to its usual vibrant, spikey self, and his face wasn't spotted with dirt. 

He followed Morty down the hallway and stairs until he found himself in a large dining room with the Queen, her husband, and the princess. A few Ricks stood by and servers placed meat and filled wine glasses. 

"Morty?" Beth looked up from her plate. "Who is this?" 

The whole room turned to Morty and he nervously walked toward his usual seat, gently pulling Rick along by the cuff of his sleeve. 

"T–This is a Rick I asked to escort me around." Morty sat in his spot, which was across from Summer, and motioned for Rick to sit beside him. Jerry looked up from his puzzle and raised an eyebrow. 

"Why is he, ehm, eating with us? And dressed like that?" Jerry inquired. 

Morty started filling his plate with chicken and potatoes, and subtly smiled at Rick. Rick was staring at the three different forks and spoons of various sizes. He was obviously unsure and Morty nudged him to follow his lead. 

Morty didn't really care what his father was saying, and he figured he could win his mom more easily. 

"I–I insisted on it," he said, pushing his food around, then looked up, hopeful, "That's fine, right, mom?" 

"Of course, Morty." She addressed Rick, "There are plenty of guest rooms. I'm sure Morty will find you one that is to your liking. In the meantime I'll have the tailor make you some clothes." 

"That's a–not necessary," Rick responded. He drank multiple glasses of wine almost fervently and Morty giggled as he watched the servers struggle to keep his glass filled. 

Jerry spoke next. "Okay, but, isn't it unnecessary to have a personal guard? This whole place is crawling with SSR agents so it's not like you're in real danger, son."

Morty looked down and shifted nervously. He still hadn't touched his food and by now Rick had enough alcohol in him to allow him to think clearly. 

He realized he was surrounded with exquisite tapestries, precious metal fixtures, crowns embroidered with rare gems, and intricately carved buttresses. Rick felt a little drool slip out of his mouth at the sight. The queen was beautiful. She rested her chin on her white-gloved hands and looked curiously at Rick. 

He didn't pay attention to the husband, and it looked like the family usually didn't. The princess shared the same hair as her mother but hers was pulled into a braid. 

Rick finished off his glass again and payed attention to the conversation about himself. 

"Don't you get it, Dad?" Summer boredly laughed, more focused on picking at her nails than anything else. "Morty's _scared_. Scared the northerners are gonna pillage us and kidnap him in the middle of the night and drop him in an ice crevice." 

"Sh–Shut up, Summer," Morty barked, "A–A–And why wouldn't they kidnap you and let your freeze to death?" 

"Because I'm not a little bitch," she stated, and flicked an olive at him. He dodged it and threw one of his spoons at her in retaliation. It landed in her soup and splattered and Rick amusedly watched as the Queen and the Jerry yelled at their kids. 

It seemed like an oxymoron, how two kids of royalty could be in such a fine place and wearing such fine clothing, but still bicker childishly with each other and even start a food fight. And watching a Queen, who was also a mom, and an idiot who just happened to be married to a Queen take jabs at each other made him feel much more relaxed.

That, and the seven glasses of kinonia wine. 

He slouched back and let out a burp and was just drunk even to ruffle Morty's hair, even picking off a piece of chicken Summer had tossed at him. 

Beth 'awed' and placed her hands across her chest. Summer made a face Morty couldn't read but Rick knew it was a good mix of smugness and derision. 

One of the servants approached him again and was about to refill his glass. Instead he took the bottle and leant back in the chair so the two front legs pushed off the ground. He sipped on the bottle and took out a flask and filled it up. Morty looked up at Rick with stars in his eyes and tried to copy his cool posture. Minus the wine and legs as long as Rick's. He fell back with a shout and tumbled out of his chair. 

Rick looked at him with casual concern and let out a little laugh once he saw Morty was okay. 

"G–Go–URP–Good job." 

Morty brushed himself off and sat back in his chair. The kids and Rick were silent throughout the rest of the dinner. Morty managed to eat something and Rick felt content with his blood's alcohol levels. Beth and Jerry made a few bitter comments toward each other. This and that about the new SSR training program or their upcoming meeting with a few dignitaries from their hopeful ally to the east. 

Eventually the servants, some species of whom Rick recognized from various planets he'd visited, cleared away all their dishes and Morty stood up from the table and Rick took that as his cue to follow. 

The sun had set some time ago and the halls were illuminated by oil lamps leaning off the walls. They went back to Morty's room and Rick paused and leant on the door. 

"Your dad's an idiot," Rick plainly said. 

Morty was caught a little off-guard but uttered out a weak laugh and an affirmation. He watched the kid's awkward movements as he folded out a futon and made it up. Rick's eyes were half-lidded, partially from the wine but mostly from encroaching sleep. He thought the prince—that Morty looked more relaxed like this, his features caressed by the soft, orange glow of the lamp he'd sat on the table. It made him stand out in his room, which was otherwise swallowed in shadows. 

"So you are scared that someone's gonna come get you." Rick said.

Morty stopped placing pillows and looked back at Rick. He could barely see him in the doorway, only his silhouette being illuminated by the lights in the hallway. 

Rick stepped from the shadows and towards Morty like a moth to a flame. The whole situation felt intimate, and the rare, quiet way in which Rick spoke made Morty feel clammy and hot. 

"W–Well, it's just–I've never had a sleep over and I thought it might be fun, I dunno," Morty looked down and twiddled his thumbs. Once Rick realized he was smiling, he threw on his best scowl and covered by patting Morty's shoulder. He pushed passed him and flopped down on the absurdly comfy futon. 

Morty felt satisfied and took the lamp from the small table and brought it over to his own bedside table. He looked over at Rick and shrugged, then pulled off his shirt and pants and put them in the hamper. It looked like Rick decided he'd rather sleep in something else because he too had removed pretty much every bit of his clothes and tossed them on the floor.

Morty crawled into his bed and left the lamp on his table, still lit. 

"Hey, Rick?" Morty ventured.

"Yeah, Morty?" Came his tired but certainly not irritated response. 

"Why were you in the woods?" 

"Eh. Hiding from the other Ricks."

"Why?"

"Cause those other Ricks are so, I dunno Morty–sheepish. As in sheep-like. It's frickin annoying. 'Go survey the ground. Go escort the family. Go kill that intruder.' It's just yap yap yap. I wasn't–wasn't cut out for this type of thing." 

"Oh. Then why'd you join?" 

"To get loaded, dawg. Figured they're be tons of opportunity to plunder the enemies palaces when war broke out. But you dumb, peace-loving weirdos aren't at war right now, so it fucking blows. Just wandering around this place, bumping into other Ricks, it was driving me crazy. A–and on top of that we can't drink on the job. That's bullshit, by the way, that's Rick abuse." 

Morty let out a little laugh, "Were you planning on deserting then? Is that why you'd hidden all your belongings out there? Getting ready to run?"

Rick hummed affirmatively. "Yo–You wanna turn out that light Morty?" 

"O–Oh, um, I mean." 

"What, are you afraid of the dark?"

No response.

"Morty?"

Still nothing. 

"Oh my God, you are. I–I don't mean to laugh style but Jesus that's pretty uh, pretty rich there, kid. You don't have any friends and you're scared of the dark. You're also probably the biggest nerd on the planet."

"Actually, I'm pretty awful with my home-schooling."

"You can still be a nerd with other shit, Morty. Don't–Doesn't have to be school."

"Sc–Science is pretty cool." 

"Which type of science, Morty? There's a lotta them." 

"Oh, I mean, all of them."

"Shit, dawg. You're speaking my language." Rick chuckled and uncapped his flask and took a gulp. "W–Why don't we say we go and have our own little science experiment tomorrow, Morty?"

"Really?"

"Yeah, I'll show you what happens when you mix oderic shavings with powdered nutorian. Spoiler alert, we're gonna need a blast shield."

"Aw, sweet, Rick, that sounds cool as hell!" 

"You bet it is you little shit. N–Now, I'm beat, that wine is really heavy shit. You're gonna have to get me something else from now own. Wine makes me sleeeepy, dawg." 

Morty smiled and even though Rick's back was turned from him and the glow of the lamp, Rick felt it, and smiled his own hidden one. 

"Okay. G–Good night, Rick."

"Night, Morty."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a devious idea for something awesome to come in the future I can't friggin wait stay tuned you sinbags.


	5. Fuck Me And Fuck The Delegation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rick and Morty's day plans don't turn out the way they wanted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh I'm sorry this chapter was really hard for me to get though I just started a college too so I'm sorry

When Rick awoke the next morning, it was to the rising sun shining on his face and Morty's gentle breathing across the room. It was a little past nine and his stomach knew it. His developing hangover knew it, too. He drained the remainder of his flask to get himself back on the addictive road of inebriation. He pushed the covers off and quietly slipped onto the hardwood floor. He chuckled to himself as he loomed over Morty's bed. The kid was so small and the huge bed seemed to swallow him. Rick thought it was, dare he say, cute the way the sun shone through Morty's bed-headed hair, giving it an almost deep-honey glow. With a smirk, he ripped the covers away and roughly shook the little prince awake.

"C'mon, Morty, get up!" He said, "We–We got some science shit to do." 

"Wha–Rick?" Morty rubbed his eyes. 

Rick tugged Morty off the bed and basically pulled him along, "But first we got–got eating shit to do." 

"Oh, geez, Rick, c–can I at least change my clothes?"

"N–No time, Morty."

 

Morty and Rick sat down in the dining hall. The rest of the family was wherever else, attending to their own duties. A few servants came and Morty told them to make them breakfast, and to also bring Rick a good selection of hard liquors. The servants looked skeptically between their young lord and the old man who had his legs propped up on the table, but they complied none the less. 

When they came back with platters of cooked eggs, meats, fresh bread, and a few bottles of alcohol, the prince was also sitting with his feet up on the table, giggling. 

"Wh–What sort c–creatures?" Morty asked, smile stretched wide across is face. 

Rick gestured vaguely with his free hand and paused every sentence or so to take a long swig. "Gromflomites, Morty, b–buggy little assholes. They're a pain in the dick." 

Breakfast passed slow and warm in this fashion. Rick describing his escapes in rich detail and steadily working himself into his usual state of intoxication, while Morty listened with rapt attention and stuffed himself full. They didn't pay any attention to the servants who quietly moved about, but the servants did make quite a few notes about the young prince and his Rick. 

But, they didn't mention it. They only silently judged as the two leaned back in the chairs, barely looking at the food they were eating, so concerned with each other as they were. And if any of the servants noticed the particular quality that twos gazes took while they were oblivious to the world around them, they didn't mention that either. 

 

Rick and Morty were on their way out of the dining hall and about to step into the yard to screw around with a chemical reaction Rick was interested in showing off to Morty, because he knew the little nerd would find it absolutely amazing, and Rick found himself looking for more opportunities to make Morty gush about how cool he was. It made heat rise to his cheeks and he had to drink more just so he could keep the blush off his cheeks.

But before they could even get out of the palace doors, a little fuzz ball came barreling down the stairs at them. 

"My lord! Oh, thank Squanch I found you." He landed at the bottom of the stairs and hopped over to Morty, urgently bowing and grasping his hand. 

"O–Oh, what's up, Squanchy?" Morty turned away from Rick, all of his attention on the little orange-furred squanchbeast dressed in a black bow-tie. 

"The delegates from Joutenic are arriving today," Squanchy informed, trying to catch his breath.

"What? They weren't supposed to come for another two weeks." 

"I know! But those squanchers from the north raided one of their outposts the other evening. They've moved up the meeting to today. They'll arrive in time for dinner—your mother asked me to prepare you right away." Squanchy tugged Morty towards the stairs. 

"W–wait, Squanchy," Morty gave a slight laugh, "There's plenty of time, isn't there? It's not even noon yet." 

"There's no time to squanch. Do you even know who you're meeting?" He said impatiently. "Also, you can't just squanch your school lessons. What the squanch is up with that, anyway? You can't just take off and expect to avoid your problems."

Rick leaned against the wall and pulled Morty towards him. "If it's a disease he can't, but–urp–pretty much everything else is on the table." 

\--

The day passed by mind-numbingly boring for Rick and for Morty. Rick because all he could do was sip from his flask, pester the servants to refill it, and grumble unhelpfully as he watched four or so private instructors fail to teach Morty anything worthwhile. Morty was bored for essentially that same reason. He looked forward to spending the day with Rick, skipping his lessons, and doing whatever sort of wacky things Rick had in mind. Instead he was pinned under each fo his different teachers, forbidden from leaving and even enjoying himself. It was dreadfully boring and he felt bad Rick had to suffer with him. A few times he encouraged Rick to go off and do something else, but the elder just shrugged and said he was comfortable where he was. 

The view of the back of Morty's head got boring after so many hours and they were both relieved when Squanchy came back, attended by two other servants. 

"Your mother told me to have you dressed for the dinner. The guests have been welcomed at the border and will be squanching shortly."

"O-okay, Squanchy, I'll be right down." The servant placed his clothes down on the desk and everyone save for Rick and Morty left the room. Morty, somewhat self-conscious, but too tired from his lessons to really process, started stripping. Rick sipped from his flask and pressed one hand to his temple. He rubbed circles and concentrated against any intruding thoughts. 

"It uh, looks like there's clothes here for you too, Rick." Morty held up the additional clothes which were much too big for himself. 

Rick huffed, capped his flask, and made short work of changing. He noticed Morty blushing the whole time, desperately tying to keep his curious eyes from wandering. He did catch a glimpse of a pale stomach with a blue happy trail that made his head spin. Rick smirked, grabbed his flask, and motioned for Morty to lead the way. 

As they went downstairs, the main doors opened and Morty's mother was down there, leading in the delegation. 

"Morty! Come come," Beth urged. Morty and Rick quickened their pace down the stairs. "This is my son snd his guard. Morty, this is the delegation from the east." 

Morty lowered his head, offered some schmoozing greeting, and extended his hand. He felt a shiver go down his spine as a pair of grey, inhuman hands grasped his and uncomfortably wandered around. 

"Oh, no, the pleasure is all mine." 

Morty took his hand back and noticed Rick had moved a half step closer. 

Beth, missing her son's discomfort, continued on. "Well, dinner is served! We have much to discuss, Proconsul, King Jellybean."


End file.
